


All And Then Most Of You

by ieroses



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Angel!Prompto, Bitter!Noctis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Noctis just wants to get laid, Prompto is fascinated by everything, Singing, Snow, but is getting cock-blocked by his conscience, this got so out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ieroses/pseuds/ieroses
Summary: And then there’s this asshole. This asshole, who’s not even making foot prints in the snow. This asshole, who must have a ridiculously high core body temperature because who walks around topless in a blizzard? Jeeze, Noctis really hates people who like winter.Wait. What?*-*-*Noctis finds a snow angel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So the uk is like super snowy atm hence this mess (yet another thing that started out as a short drabble and has Doubled In Length cry cry) 
> 
> Title (and later song) credit to The Night We Met by Lord Huron (if u don't know it, go listen pls pls it's so good)

Noctis hates the fucking snow.

 

It’s wet stuff that sticks, sinking into the fabric of his coat and catching on his eyelashes. When it’s heavy it’s blinding, like right now Noctis can barely see three meters in front of him. It’s so thick on the ground that he couldn’t even drive back from the bar, and now he’s going to have to go back at some point to collect the car. Which probably won’t be for a couple days because even once all this shit starts melting it’ll just turn into an even worse icy grey slush.

 

Frankly, fuck winter, man.

 

And then there’s this asshole. This asshole, who’s not even making foot prints in the snow. This asshole, who must have a ridiculously high core body temperature because who walks around topless in a blizzard? Jeeze, Noctis really hates people who like winter.

 

Wait. What?

 

Noctis stops. The stranger is stood just behind him now. Noctis pivots, frowning. Sure enough, the man stands surrounded by a sheet snow unmarred except for Noctis’ footprints. Even his bare feet don’t dent the surface, and though the blizzard is still coming down with force the flakes seem to settle into his skin, crystalizing into diamonds.

 

The bare skin of his back glints in what little light escapes the streetlamps. Now that Noctis looks closer, the flakes seem to gravitate towards him, twisting and settling just so, creating a web of intricate light designs on his skin. The patterns are endless, disappearing into the pale strands of his hair and down below the waistband of his white trousers.

 

Noctis takes all this in for a few moments, blinks, rubs his eyes, shakes his head, hopes that it’s just the blizzard sending him crazy. Because that sounds exactly like the kind of thing December would fucking do to him.

 

But the guy’s still there, staring up at the flakes of snow as they tumble down.

 

‘Hey man,’ Noctis calls, because he’s a dick but he’s not about to let someone legitimately freeze to death (even if it would serve them right for being a fucking idiot), ‘you okay there?’

 

When the guy turns around he’s grinning, pure joy so wide Noctis can see all his teeth and Noctis’ immediate thought is _great, now I’m helping a crazy person_. As the stranger’s eyes catch on Noctis’ his smile shrinks just a touch, into something more considerate.

 

Not that Noctis notices. He’s sort of… staring now.

 

This guy is unreal. A jaw that looks like its just stepped off the pages of GQ magazine and hair that defies gravity. Yeah, Noctis is well versed in the art of using gel to achieve that perfect point, but with the way the blonde hair is shifting and catching in the wind there’s no way its got enough hair gel in it to agree with basic physics. Then there’s the eyelashes, where the snowflakes are catching but, unlike melting into messy drips as they do on Noctis’, here they settle like eye shadow, flickering with every blink. And those _eyes_. They’re almost sort of crystal blue but actually drifting into what Noctis can only describe as _lilac_. Who the hell has lilac eyes? There are flecks of white on his cheeks kind of like silvery freckles and –

 

‘Hi there!’

 

Would it be weird to say his voice reminded Noctis of bells? It would be weird. Weird _er_.

 

He’s grinning again, this crazy guy, and Noctis takes an involuntary step back. This catches the stranger’s attention and his expression falls into what can only be described as crestfallen. His arms drop and his starts wringing his hands together. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

 

‘Oh, uh,’ Noctis tries to smile, ‘no worries. You didn’t… frighten me.’ Fuck that, Noctis is terrified. Some goddamn Adonis of a crazy man is gonna stab him. He’s gonna die _in the middle of a blizzard_.

 

The Adonis part is kinda nice though.

 

Except now he’s over the godlike person, he’s registering the blue lips and what is definitely a dusting of ice over the skin. If he doesn’t get out of this weather soon, the man is going to die. Even if he is smiling again. The moods are on a freaking pendulum.

 

‘Look, are you lost? Is there anyone I can call? Are you near home, maybe?’ _Please, please, please_.

 

‘I’m not lost. I’m found! You found me!’

 

‘Super.’

 

The sarcasm goes right over the stranger’s head. ‘Isn’t it just!’

 

‘Do you at least have a name, maybe?’ Noctis starts rubbing his hands together because he’s losing feeling in his fingers, even with the gloves. Honestly, just looking at the half-naked man is making him wince with the thought of it. And also sort of flush deep inside because those _abs_ , but that’s an entirely different issue and not one that should be on his mind right now.

 

‘I’m Prompto. Pleasure to meet you.’ Then he bows, full on down at the waist, so low that his hair flops forward.

 

‘Prompto, excellent,’ Noctis mutters to himself, walking past the man in the direction he just came from, ‘weird name for a weird dude. C’mon, I’m taking you to the hospital.’

 

‘Hospital?’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

Noctis walks for a few steps, silently mournful because his earlier footprints have already been lost in the snow and it’s so goddamn cold. But of course, Prompto isn’t following. When Noctis turns around he’s just staring, head cocked to the side.

 

‘What’s a hospital?’

 

Fucking blizzards. ‘A hospital is where people go when they don’t feel very well and need someone to make them feel better.’

 

‘But I feel fine. Amazing, actually. I haven’t felt this good in _ages_.’

 

Now Prompto is dancing and Noctis wants to fucking die or still be back at the bar or just be anywhere else, really. He stalks back and goes to grab the crazy man by the arm. There’s probably some rule somewhere that you shouldn’t approach crazy people but really, by this point he seems about as harmful as a toddler.

 

But jeeze, he’s strong.

 

Rather than tugging him along, when Noctis grabs Prompto’s arm he gets yanked forward until he’s almost chest to chest, the wet fabric of his coat brushing against skin. Noctis is going to die, whether through murder or through those fucking muscles, to be honest.

 

He looks up and those glassy eyes are staring down at him, deep in thought. They’re stood like that for a few moments, Noctis unable to look away, when something registers with the exposed fingers at the ends of his gloves (for the record, cut off gloves in a blizzard? Don’t).

 

Prompto is warm. Like, really warm. Like, Noctis is struck with the instinctive urge to burrow himself inside those crazy arms and hibernate there until summer comes.

 

Not a bad idea, really. If you forget about the crazy.

 

Apparently having had all his brain cells freeze to death, Noctis points out the obvious: ‘you’re warm.’

 

Prompto’s eyebrows furrow for a second and his irises glance away. Then his expression smooths out. ‘I am, aren’t I?’ He laughs, a light giggle, and now _this_ is bells. ‘I’m warm. I’m warm!’

 

He’s pulling Noctis along, trying to get him to dance in joy, too. Predictably, Noctis is not playing. In fact, he’s downright glaring.

 

Prompto notices eventually and stops trying to drag Noctis around, but he doesn’t let go. Noctis is a little bit thankful.

 

There’s that frown again, the slightly confused one as Prompto cocks his head to the side. ‘You aren’t warm?’

 

‘No,’ Noctis growls, and a shiver strikes at that moment as if to emphasize his point, ‘I’m fucking freezing.’

 

‘I think I can fix that? Yeah… yeah, I can fix that.’

 

Noctis doesn’t have it in him to refuse the warmth, so he doesn’t jerk away like he wants to when Prompto raises his hand to Noctis’ cheek. It’s a soft touch, tender, honestly, and combined with the smile playing at the edge of the other’s mouth it manages to bring something warm up inside Noctis.

 

No, wait. That’s actual warmth. Legit heat.

 

It begins at the point beneath Prompto’s hand, like the feeling of pressing your skin to a radiator, and slowly the warmth spreads through his body, bringing feeling back to his fingers, toes, the points of his ears. Noctis sighs into it, body pressing further into Prompto of its own accord.

 

‘Better?’

 

Noctis’ eyes flutter open – when the hell did he close them? – and yeah it is better, much better, but okay, what the actual fuck?

 

Panic clutching his – admittedly now warm – insides, Noctis stumbles away, just about keeping his feet in his effort to get away. Prompto, to his credit, looks unperturbed, just keeps smiling on, hand still hovering in the air where Noctis had been moments before.

 

‘What did you just do? What did you just do to me?’

 

‘I warmed you up, dingus. I thought you were cold.’

 

‘I… was…’

 

Okay, fuck this. This is just too fucking weird. Noctis didn't even drink, he'd been hoping to drive home, after all, so he must have been spiked or _something_. Shit like this just does not happen. Shaking his head, Noctis turns and starts walking, uncaring that he’s going the wrong way, just knowing that he needs to get as far from that freak as possible.

 

‘Hey,’ Prompto calls to his back, ‘I thought we were going this way?’

 

‘ _We_ aren’t going anywhere,’ Noctis yells over his shoulder, ‘ _I_ am getting far away from you.’

 

Okay, he’ll admit it though. It’s pretty nice being warm.

 

‘Well that doesn’t seem fair,’ Prompto mutters, but at least his voice is fading. Within a couple more steps Noctis has put enough distance between them that Prompto is nothing but a shadow in the blizzard, and after a couple more he has disappeared completely. With the blizzard as strong as it is, Noctis’ is hopeful that his footprints will probably be covered as fast as he can make them.

 

He stumbles the streets for a while, not paying attention to where he’s going just so long as there is no one following. Finally, he turns into an alley where the buildings are so high either side that the snow lets up a touch. He pauses there to catch his bearings and figure out just how he is going to get home.

 

‘Well this place is no fun.’

 

Noctis jumps and spins. A little further into the alley Prompto is leaning against the wall, hand stretched out to catch the few snowflakes that make it down past the buildings. He turns suddenly and grins at Noctis. ‘Hey, I know this awesome place near here. We should go. There’s so much more snow.’

 

‘How – How did you find me?’

 

Prompto nods at Noctis’ feet. Noctis glances down but has to do a double take. On the ground around his feet is a small circle of ice, flecked with crystal and delicate, flowery trails. He spins and finds there is a whole trail stretching back the way he came. When he stumbles back, the trail follows, the icy flowers blooming beneath each step.

 

‘Pretty neat, right! I made myself one, too.’

 

Prompto skips forward and weaves between Noctis’ trail. The lines mingle together and the patterns grow into one another until Noctis’ tracks are indistinguishable from the other.

 

‘I’m dreaming,’ Noctis mutters, clutching his head, ‘I’m dreaming. Any minute now I’m going to wake up and I am not going to sleep again for a _week_.’

 

‘I know how you feel.’ Prompto is close again, his breath blowing on Noctis’ face and the darker boy jerks back. Prompto is too busy watching the sky to notice. ‘I feel like I’m dreaming, too. So, to the pond.’

 

Prompto grabs Noctis’ hand and Noctis wants to resist but, did he mention? Prompto is strong as fuck. He has Noctis running at a relentless place, and even though it is literal ice growing under his feet, it offers this weird sort of friction that ends up being the only thing keeping Noctis standing.

 

‘What pond is this, exactly?’

 

‘There’s a – what do you people call them again? Where the little people run around and laugh and scream a lot?’ Prompto yanks Noctis to a sudden stop and seems to genuinely want an answer.

 

‘Uh… a… park?’

 

Prompto snaps his fingers. ‘That’s it! A park. Sorry, my mind’s still a little fuzzy. It’ll all come back soon though, don’t worry.’ Then they’re running again.

 

A street sign appears and disappears in the wall of snow and Noctis realizes where they are. True to word, there is a park near here, but it’s a dingy thing. Most swings are broken, the slide is sticky with rust, and yes, there is a pond, but it’s more like a pool of sludge embellished with the occasional trolley.

 

Not that he has a chance to warn Prompto of this, of course, with their running. Instead, he steals himself to deal with the crazy dream-guy’s disappointment and tries not to let his arm get too twisted in Prompto’s grip.

 

One second, the two of them are running through a wall of snow thick enough to blind, the next they burst from the wall into a bubble of winter wonderland. Noctis, true to form, stumbles when Prompto releases him, the momentum of their run still driving him forward. This time though he really does collapse into a bank of snow just inside the gate.

 

He splutters and coughs and mutters as he brushes himself down, crawling up off the floor. Despite everything, Noctis still manages to be surprised when he looks up at the dump of a park to find it is… well, it’s fucking beautiful, if Noct is going to be quite honest.

 

There is a line of trees surrounding the park and just beyond them Noctis can see the wall of the blizzard. But around the park it’s clear, the moon illuminating the snow and casting such bright light it might as well be daytime. Despite the lack of cloud there is the lightest dusting of snowflakes still falling from the sky. They’re storybook snowflakes, big enough that Noctis can make out the complex patterns in even just a glance.

 

This is what does it. This is what makes him certain. He’s in a dream.

 

Prompto has wandered forward, flowery ice trail still following, and now that Noctis knows he’s not real he takes a second to give kudos to his own imagination. Yeah, the whole ice skin and lilac eyes thing is a bit weird, but that body is carved to perfection. Noctis wonders idly if he can maybe work on taking this dream in a very _particular_ direction.

 

He’s pulled out of such fantasies – dream-ception? – by Prompto finally begging him to come over, gesturing wildly with his arms. Noctis rubs his now warm hands together and goes to join his fantasy.

 

Prompto’s surprisingly childish considering he’s made in Noctis’ head, because as soon as Noctis catches up he runs off again towards the play park, bee lining towards the swings. Of the row, there is only one that isn’t broken. Rather than brush off the layer of snow Prompto jumps straight onto the swing. Noctis watches, still in some level of a daze, as the snow morphs around Prompto, climbing like icy vines around the chains. Prompto is oblivious, so Noctis doesn’t mention it.

 

‘The weather’s certainly cleared up,’ Noctis says, more as an ironic joke to himself.

 

‘Yeah, sorry, but I’ve been watching this park for a long time wanting to try this out. It looks so fun! Wouldn’t be quite the same if _you_ couldn’t see, y’know?’

 

‘I have so many questions about what you just said.’

 

‘Then ask away.’ Prompto starts swinging, but his eyes are on Noctis. The latter wanders over to lean on the bar holding up the swings. Unlike with Prompto, the snow brushes off onto his coat, and even though he can’t feel the cold, it hardly seems fair of his brain to give Prompto all the cool powers.

 

‘So this, the bubble, it was your doing?’

 

‘Yup!’

 

‘You couldn’t have done that earlier?’

 

‘Well, yeah! But I forgot – I forget that humans actually get blinded by the snow, y’know?’

 

‘Wait, what? And you don’t?’

 

‘It’s like – can you see through the air that you breath?’

 

‘Well, yeah – ’

 

‘Then there you go. Mystery solved.’

 

Noctis frowns, nods to himself as though Prompto’s logic is sound, files that information away as useless and moves on. ‘So you’re not human?’

 

‘Of course not. Do I look human?’

 

Noctis shrugs. ‘I thought you were just wearing a lot of make-up.’

 

Prompto frowns at this and jumps out of the swing, leaping and then bounding over to Noctis’ side. ‘Hey, I put a lot of work into these vines. They’re not _make-up_.’

 

‘Sorry!’ Noctis holds his hands up in surrender, because Prompto is genuinely pissed.

 

Prompto grabs one of Noctis’ outstretched palms and drags it towards his chest. ‘See, feel them, try and rub them off. They’re _not_ make-up.’

 

This is a weird direction for the conversation, Noctis will be the first to admit. But he gets distracted. The crystalized patters of ice that stretch all over Prompto’s skin look like another layer, definitely three dimensional, as though Prompto’s skin is a slightly rocky surface made of diamond. It’s like an optical illusion when Noctis touches though, because all those crystals are _under_ the skin. He presses his hand firmer against Prompto’s chest, starts tracing one of the lines with his fingertips, expecting to feel the sharp bumps or melting ice and coming up only against warm skin.

 

Prompto releases a shaky sigh and Noctis glances up, hand still pressed to Prompto’s abdomen. His eyes have fluttered shut, lips slightly parted. Noctis can only stare as Prompto’s eyes flicker back open and a sheepish smile graces his features.

 

‘Sorry. It’s, uh, been a long time since anyone’s… touched me.’ _Here we go_ , thinks Noctis, _here comes the sexy dream, finally_.

 

Instead, Prompto is having none of it, disappearing across the park before Noctis has gathered the presence of mind to so much as lean in for a kiss. Noctis frowns to himself, because this feels very much like a lucid dream, but if so he’d have a much higher level of control. There is no way he’d have Prompto bailing out at this point.

 

Across the park, Prompto’s silhouette is spinning on the merry-go-round. Stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, out of habit more than need for warmth, Noctis pushes away from the bar and meanders over to his accomplice.

 

Prompto is… quiet, leaning back on his arms and staring up at the sky, expression thoughtful in the moonlight. For some reason, Noctis feels suddenly guilty that he’s mainly been thinking about sex for the last ten minuets.

 

‘You okay?’

 

Rather than answering straight away, Prompto spins for a few more loops, in which time Noctis watches more glassy vines grow along the floor until it looks like Prompto’s turning on a disc of ice.

 

‘Yeah, I’m… okay. It’s just… not what I expected.’

 

‘What’s not?’

 

Prompto shrugs. ‘Everything. The others, they always said…’

 

‘The others?’

 

‘They used to talk about how great it was, to be… real. They used to talk about drinking and friends and music. Did you know you can _feel_ music? It seems impossible. It’s a sound, right? But apparently it has a feeling, when it’s playing really really loud.’

 

‘Sounds to me like those others of yours went to a party, not a park.’

 

‘Party?’

 

‘Yeah, y’know, nightclub… dancing, alcohol… music.’

 

As the merry-go-round slows down, Prompto starts watching the ground. ‘Ravus mentioned these… nightclub things. He showed me once. I don’t think they’re my sort of thing.’

 

‘Well… that’s okay. They’re not really my sort of thing, either. My friends – Iggy and Gladio – they were heading out when I was on my way home. Much rather have a quiet night in myself.’

 

‘Friends… are we friends?’

 

Prompto is watching him now with wide eyes shining in the moonlight. They’re glassier than usual and Noctis thinks the guy might be on the edge of tears. ‘Yeah, Prom, we’re friends.’

 

He tries to smile, but it’s a fragile thing. ‘You won’t even tell me your name.’

 

‘I’m Noctis.’

 

‘Noc-tis.’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

Something mischievous grows in the corner of Prompto’s mouth. ‘Weird name for a weird dude.’

 

Noctis glances around at what his mind has managed to create and can’t help but agree. This has Prompto laughing, and before he registers it Noctis is laughing too, and the melancholy moment is broken.

 

*-*

 

It’s a big park and once Prompto has recovered from his introspection he’s insistent that they go explore it. Even if it’s just a big empty field, curving down to the pond in the furthest corner, Prompto is fascinated. Noctis can’t say he’s complaining. It’s sort of cool, actually, having ice grow from wherever your foot lands.

 

‘So if you’re not human, what are you?’

 

Prompto catches a snow flake in his hand and says, as if it’s nothing, ‘an angel.’

 

‘Wait, really?’

 

‘Uh-huh, a snow angel!’

 

Well… that kinda makes sense, Noctis thinks. ‘I thought angels had wings?’

 

Wrong thing to say. Prompto freezes. Noctis is beginning to get used to Prompto’s suddenly changing expressions but it still pinches his heart whenever he sees Prompto frowning. ‘Yeah… of course angels have wings.’

 

‘Then where are yours?’

 

‘… look, you can’t laugh, okay? If I show you, you gotta promise that you won’t laugh at me.’

 

‘Okay, okay, I promise. Why would someone laugh at your wings, anyway?’

 

Prompto grimaces, looking doubtful, but then he shakes his head like a horse ruffling it’s mane and the air around the pair starts glistening. Noctis feels like someone’s just thrown a load of flour in the air, letting the cloud tumble down over them, but he can’t help feel Prompto wouldn’t appreciate such a comment at the moment.

 

When the air clears and they’re left with the moon shining down on them again, Noctis is awestruck.

 

‘See,’ Prompto is saying, ‘I told you you’d want to laugh. All the other kids used to tease me, too. I can’t help it. I tried exercising, flying every day. I’m just big boned.’

 

If he was with it, Noctis would realise Prompto was in great need of reassurance right now. But his mind has sort of stopped working. Prompto’s wings are, well, massive. Sleek, yes, with thick, lush white feathers brushing down their length. But at their tallest points they’re a couple of feet taller than Prompto, and they drag in the snow on the ground, the only part of Prompto to make any sort of accidental mark.

 

‘They’re…’

 

‘They’re ridiculous, I know. Why’d you think I was hiding them? Who wants such a shitty – ’

 

‘They’re incredible.’

 

‘ – angel for a – Wait, what?’

 

‘Prompto, you’re incredible. _Amazing_.’ Noctis has forgotten he’s dreaming, has forgotten almost every realistic thought in his mind, because Prompto is supernatural in every fucking sense. ‘Can I… Can I touch?’

 

Prompto’s wings twitch, jerking back instinctively from Noctis’ outstretched hand. ‘It’s uh, considered kinda… personal to go touching an angel’s wings, y’know.’

 

Noctis blinks, because of course he doesn’t know. He has to drag his eyes away from them, and he has every intention of apologizing for overstepping his mark. Instead, though Prompto won’t meet his eye, the blush on his cheeks is obvious and he can’t stop grinning. His wings move again, and Noctis decides that the word he should be using is preening. Prompto is definitely preening, subconsciously, but still.

 

‘You… you really like them?’

 

‘Yeah, Prom. Don’t be fucking dumb. They’re the most incredible things I’ve ever seen.’

 

And it’s true.

 

Prompto grins openly now, watching Noctis with wide eyes.

 

‘Hey,’ Noctis says, something occurring to him, ‘you swore.’

 

‘Well, duh. I’m an adult, Noct. I’m allowed to swear.’

 

‘I know! I just… hadn’t put you as the sort.’

 

‘The longer we spend in physical form, the more of our mind returns to us. It’s like my mind is growing up all over again, really, really fast.’

 

‘Huh, so earlier, when you didn’t know what a hospital was?’

 

‘It wasn’t my fault that I was being a fucking idiot.’

 

In the space of a few minutes, Prompto goes from being the type of boy who just looks uncomfortable swearing to the type of guy who is made to swear. It has Noctis laughing again, laughing and grinning, nodding. ‘Anyway… you wanted to see that pond?’

 

‘Hell yeah.’ Prompto walks on beside Noctis, and he doesn’t put his wings away.

 

*-*

 

Despite the blizzard, the pond is only partially frozen over, ice thick at the edges but tapering off near the middle.

 

Noctis doesn’t bat an eyelid when Prompto touches his toe to the edge and a web of ice scatters from the point of contact. The dingy surface of the water transforms in a perfect, crystalline surface of blue ice. Prompto sets a tentative foot on the surface, then follows with the other, jumps up and down a few times and finally dubs the ice strong enough.

 

Noctis can already see what’s coming.

 

‘Nope. Uh-uh, nope, not in a million years. I’ve tried ice skating once, never a-freaking-gain.’

 

‘C’mon, Noct,’ Prompto is grinning, ‘you can trust me. I’m your guardian angel!’

 

‘I thought you were a snow angel?’

 

‘I’ll make a career change. Now come on.’

 

Years and years ago Noctis’ father took him ice-skating in central park and it ended in a trip to A&E and far too much disgusting hospital food. Noctis has no desire to repeat the experience. Yet Prompto is looking at him with such hopeful eyes, wings lifted just off the surface of the ice, and Noctis doesn’t have it in him to let the guy down.

 

‘If the ice starts breaking,’ Noctis says, shifting towards the shore and pointing a stern finger at the angel, ‘then you are flying me the fuck out of here.’

 

‘Deal.’

 

As soon as Noctis has reached the ice Prompto is there, taking Noctis’ hands in his own. For all Noctis is stressed by the idea of being back on the ice, he can’t deny there’s something comforting and solid in Prompto’s grip. He may clutch to the other’s hands a little too hard, but the angel doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he only holds tighter.

 

Once they are stable in the centre of the ice, Prompto says, ‘now you gotta trust me, okay?’

 

‘I’m already here, aren’t I?’ So maybe his voice shakes a little. He’s cool. He’s totally freaking got this.

 

He starts hovering a little in the air and he totally doesn’t got this.

 

Instinctively, he looks down and there are swirls of ice wrapping around his and Prompto’s feet, solidifying into blades. ‘Of fucking course,’ Noctis breathes, earning a huff of laughter from Prompto.

 

‘It’ll be fun. I’ve watched people do this a thousand times.’

 

‘Watched? But you’ve never actually done it yourself?’

 

Prompto shrugs. ‘Not in so many words.’

 

‘If you wanted to do it so bad why didn’t you do it before now.’

 

‘This is… kinda… my first time.’

 

‘Your first time of what?’

 

‘My first time on Eos?’

 

‘What?’ Noctis doesn’t have time to real from this revelation because Prompto grins and starts pulling Noctis along. Noctis focuses all his effort and concentration on keeping them standing and it’s… actually not that bad. Prompto’s wings must have no weight to them at all – either that, or he’s exceptionally good with his centre of gravity – and their make-shift blades are smooth on the make-shift ice.

 

Nocits actually finds himself having fun as they spin and swoop around the rink.

 

‘Ha,’ he laughs, giddy, eyes on their feet as they trace the edge of the ice, ‘look at me now dad!’

 

‘You’re dad would be proud, to see you doing this?’

 

‘My dad would piss himself laughing. But at least it’s something I can actually do. Unlike everything else he wants from me.’

 

The bitterness surprises even Noctis and the joy that had been building dissolves. Prompto, hands still in Noctis’, lets them drift into a lazy circling on the ice.

 

‘I’m sure there are plenty of things he’s proud of you for.’

 

‘Yeah… I’ve heard that before.’

 

Unlike when they walk, their blades don’t leave trails of patterns. Just the lines of a sharp object against ice. Noctis trains his eyes on the trails because he can feel it: his sex dream is turning into a therapy dream. Great.

 

‘Well,’ Prompto starts, after they’ve been quiet for what he judges to be too long, ‘I don’t know your dad, so I can’t say anything about that.’ Noctis feels Prompto’s eyes on his face, so he looks up to meet them, stormy eyes staring into bright ice. Prompto is smiling, something small and secret, mostly hidden in the corners of his mouth. ‘But I’m getting to know you, Noct. And I for one think you’re pretty great.’

 

‘Thanks Prompto. I think you’re pretty great too.’

 

So maybe it’s not some sexy heated dream out in the snow, maybe it’s just ice skating in a park with a beautiful boy. Noctis will take that. Happily.

 

*-*

 

‘We can’t go into the city centre with you dressed like that.’

 

‘Why not? I’ll put my wings away.’ Prompto’s wings flinch in the light, communicating their dislike of that very idea.

 

‘Yeah, but you’ll still be a guy walking round topless in negative temperatures.’

 

‘So?’

 

Noctis doesn’t know why he’s bothering. This is all a dream, anyway. They would just arrive and no one would bat an eyelid, because it’s all in Noctis’ head.

 

There’s an instinct though, crawling around his gut, that it’s just a bad idea.

 

‘Look, we were right near my apartment before, and I don’t live far from the centre. You can borrow some of my clothes and then we’ll head in.’

 

Prompto grins, rocking on the non-broken swing. ‘Thanks, Noct. You’re a good friend.’

 

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Noctis mutters, reaching for Prompto’s hand, ‘I’m a fucking saint.’

 

As they leave the park, Noctis glances behind and sees the wall of snow suddenly falling back in on the grass, consuming more with every step until the blizzard has swallowed the park whole. This time, Prompto keeps a bubble of blizzard-free air around them as they wander through the streets.

 

This is a way Noctis can condone doing winter.

 

*-*

 

Loath as he was to hide that body, Noctis is so glad he did, because the city centre is rammed. Wrapped now in one of Noctis’ spare coats, thick scarf almost drowning his ears and trainers on his feet, Prompto leads the way aimlessly into the busyness of Citadel Square, Noctis jumping to try and catch up.

 

The buildings are so high surrounding the square that they act as a little bit of shelter, reducing the strength of the blizzard. It’s still a busy Friday night, and drunken people wander to and fro, stumbling and singing and laughing. Prompto is fascinated by it all, getting distracted by every different shrill noise and flashing light.

 

They’ve only been wandering around for about ten minutes when Noctis finds what Prompto had asked to see. A festive band is set up on some steps, all wearing a matching uniform of red and green and tinsel, surrounded by a fairly significant crowd. It makes Noctis’ skin crawl, but Prompto is captivated.

 

Noctis and Prompto are perched on a concrete wall in a nearby corner, the crowd mulling close to them. The band starts to play, the trumpets and drums thumping through the concrete. You’d think it was magic, the way Prompto reacts, eyes wide, leaning forward as though trying to get closer. Noctis chuckles to himself, appreciating the irony there.

 

‘Noct. Noct! I can feel it. Can you feel it?’

 

Prompto doesn’t wait for Noctis to answer, just grabs his hand and thrusts it onto the surface of the wall, insisting Noctis feel the vibrations of sound. ‘I can feel it, Prom. Don’t worry.’

 

‘You don’t seem very excited.’

 

‘Just not my sort of music, that’s all.’

 

‘Oh… then what is?’

 

*-*

 

Ignis would call it a “dive”. In fact, he has, and refuses to attend no matter how many promises Noctis makes of favours.

 

Noctis thinks that might be one of the reasons he loves it.

 

The floor is sticky, a strange smell permeating the air. Everyone has to shout to be heard, meaning everyone gets progressively louder as the evening goes on, so when you wake the next morning your ears are still ringing. But what Noctis loves most is the stage at the back where you can always rely on some band to be playing the classics, all heavy guitar and breathy singing through the microphone.

 

Best of all, there’s this strange habit the dance floor has. It’s always busy enough to have a good dance, but it’s empty enough that you’re not crowded together.

 

Prompto is just as intrigued when they arrive as he had been outside. However, whether it’s the low lighting or the lack of snow, he sticks close to Noctis’ side this time. The band is on a break so he orders them both a drink. Prompto takes the glass but eyes it warily.

 

‘You’ll like it,’ Noctis reassures the angel.

 

‘I don’t know. Ravus is always going on about this alcohol stuff. Anything he’s particularly fond of, I make a rule to avoid.’

 

‘It’s more fruit juice than anything else, I promise.’

 

Prompto takes a cautious, slightly scared sip. ‘Wow, that’s … that’s nice. Really nice.’

 

Then the angel is starting to chug it and Noctis has to reach forward to tug the glass from his mouth. ‘Careful. You shouldn’t drink too much too fast. Especially as I don’t have a clue how your metabolism works.’

 

Surprisingly, Prompto concedes without complaint. ‘You’re the expert.’

 

It’s lucky is the holiday season, Noctis realizes, otherwise Prompto would stand out even dressed as he is. There are still flecks of crystal in his eyelashes, and there’s this slight glow to his skin only emphasized by the silver freckles. Prompto _is_ light, and that’s hard to hide, with his perfectly styled blonde hair and glowing irises. Best not let anyone get too hard a look at those either, Noctis thinks, because they are even stronger on the side of purple in the darkness. It’s like they flash slightly every time he blinks. He’s like a walking jewel, catching, absorbing and refracting the light, and –

 

‘You’re kinda staring, Noct.’

 

Noctis blinks and shakes himself, thankful for the dark to hide his blush. ‘Just thinking. Sorry.’

 

‘No worries.’ Prompto bumps Noctis’ shoulder. ‘I didn’t say you had to stop.’

 

Noctis doesn’t look back over. Instead he stands, watching the stage, sort of hating himself for a second because he’s not one of those romantic assholes, he’s really not, but dammit, it’s hard not to smile when Prompto is looking at him like that. To distract himself, he slides his phone out of his pocket and starts browsing social media. Not that he would be able to tell anyone what he was reading, attention hyper-aware of Prompto shifting beside him as it is.

 

‘What’s that?’

 

Of fucking course. ‘It’s a phone.’

 

‘Phone… right. What’s that for?’

 

‘Y’know, calling, texting, browsing the internet, taking pictures.’

 

‘I have so many questions about what you just said.’

 

Noctis goes to restrain the urge to grumble and is surprised to find it’s not there. ‘Look, it’s like this.’ He exits the messages page and opens the camera app. Prompto just watches, plainly confused, and Noctis points the phone at the angel and clicks a photo.

 

Prompto jerks back at the flash, dazed for a moment, but then jumps forward, intrigued. ‘What was that?’

 

‘A photo.’ Noctis twists the screen so Prompto can see the flushed, deer-caught-in-headlights version of himself now saved onto Noctis’ phone. He has to admit, it’s pretty cute. (No, it’s not. Shut up.)

 

‘And you thought my tricks were cool? What the hell, man, this shit is real magic.’

 

Before Noctis can yank his hand away, Prompto has nicked his phone and has quickly discovered how to use it. Thankfully, the other customers are either too distracted or too drunk to get annoyed at Prompto jumping in their faces to take a picture. Noctis stumbles after him, grabbing him just before he’s literally about to shove his way into the middle of a giant group of football lads, and tugs him back to the bar. Prompto literally whines when Noctis grabs his phone back.

 

‘Look, you can take one nice photo of us, and that’s it. No more. You’re gonna fill up my memory at this point.’

 

‘Fine.’ But Prompto’s expression says it’s anything but fine.

 

‘Promise?’

 

‘I swear, Noct. You can trust me.’

 

Noctis hands his phone back to the blonde and settles at his side to get into frame. Prompto throws his arm around Noctis shoulder at the last minute, grinning. What they produce is a surprisingly accurate portrayal of the evening: Prompto grinning, glowing and hanging off a scowling, confused Noctis.

 

Noctis has another mental rant at himself because he kind of loves the photo. It’s fucking hilarious and his hair looks great and did he mention? There’s an Adonis of a man in it beside him.

 

When Prompto hands the phone back he quickly slides it into his pocket and goes back to silently waiting by the bar for the band to start. At his side, Prompto is swinging and fidgeting, half-way between bored and fascinated. For lack of any better ideas, Noctis decides to buy them another drink each since they lost theirs in the photo fiasco.

 

‘Getting all dressed up… buying me drinks…’ Prompto muses, taking the new glass, and Noctis is only half listening when he chokes, hoping he’s miss-heard, because Prompto bursts out with, ‘Luna mentioned this! We’re on a date!’

 

‘No, Prompto, we’re not… this isn’t how a date works.’

 

‘But you’re taking me out?’

 

‘I found you on the street.’ As Noctis says it, it sort of hits him all over again because yeah, he found Prompto on the fucking street and he’s either made up or a crazy homeless man and now Noctis is _buying him drinks_? ‘That’s just… you usually meet someone in a bar or at work or something, and then when you like them, then you take them on a date.’

 

‘So… you don’t like me?’

 

‘What, no – yes? That’s not what I said. I just meant…’ Prompto’s lip is wobbling and Noctis Cannot Deal so he sighs to himself, swigs his drink, and says, ‘fuck it. We’re on a date.’

 

‘So you’ll dance with me? Those are the rules.’

 

‘Rules?’

 

‘Yeah. Y’know, Luna said there was a certain… etiquette.’

 

‘You can barely comprehend a date but you know the word _etiquette_?’

 

‘I’m sheltered, Noct. Not a dumbass.’

 

‘Coulda fooled me,’ Noctis mutters, but he’s smiling, joking, and earns a playful punch to the arm from the blonde in payment. ‘These friends of yours, they get out a lot more, huh?’

 

‘Yeah… Luna says one day they’ll let me out, but… it’s hard, y’know?’

 

‘They let you out now, didn’t they?’ Of the freaking insane asylum.

 

Prompto goes stiff, muscles locked and eyes widening, and Noctis thinks _great, I really am helping an escapee run away_.

 

‘Yeeeeah,’ Prompto says, ‘At least they gave me a shot now!’ He’s trying to grin but it’s the first – and very obviously false – smile Noctis has seen.

 

Noctis is saved from having to think much more about his too elaborate dream exposition because the band approaches the stage. The already high noise level is drowned in the tuning of guitar strings and drum sound checks.

 

Much to the annoyance of other customers, Prompto bounds through the crowds to reach the front, dragging Noctis along behind him. Noctis is pretty much used to that by now.

 

A girl with sharp pink hair approaches the mic, guitar slung over her shoulder. The introduction is skipped in favour of bursting into the first song and it’s all noise and high-pitched singing. As close as they are to the speakers, the melody can barely be made out against what is, quite frankly, a racket.

 

Noctis loves it, of course. Any other night and he’d be jumping into the crowd already, because thrashing around against chaos is the best way to forget about all his legitimate real world problems.

 

Right now though, he’s tripping into a newly discovered caring-mother-hen role, because Prompto is cringing away, hands pressed to his ears and eyes shut tight. Noctis tries to call through to him, but Prompto shakes his head, refusing to hear, stuck to the spot as the crowds begin to jump around them.

 

Using his elbow to shove away anyone who gets to close, he wraps an arm around Prompto’s waist and starts tugging him away from the stage. Once they clear the bulk of the crowds everyone parts for them, concern showing on a few faces that Noctis waves off.

 

When they’re outside the clatter of the door closes them off from the racket and transforms it into only a distant hum. Prompto is still shaking, burrowing into Noctis. Stood under the canopy as they are, protected from the blizzard but still close enough to have the occasional flake drawn towards Prompto, Noctis can think of nothing else to do but wrap both arms around the angel. Slowly, Prompto releases his hands from his ears and settles them against Noctis’ chest.

 

After a while of Noctis silently holding Prompto, the blonde sniffles. ‘You actually _like_ that?’

 

Noctis chuckles. ‘It’s an acquired taste.’

 

Shouldn’t Noctis’ literal dream guy like the same sort of music? Odd.

 

‘I certainly felt it, that’s for sure.’

 

‘Sorry, Prom. I genuinely thought you’d like it.’

 

‘No, no, it’s fine. The whole reason I came here was to try new things. I don’t think I wanna go back to somewhere like that though.’

 

‘That’s okay. There are plenty of places we can go. It’s Friday night in Insomnia, for Astral’s sake. The clue is in the name.’

 

Prompto pushes away from Noctis’ chest just enough so that he can catch the other’s eye. Though he seems nervous about the suggestion, fingers creasing into almost-fists, he says, ‘how about we do all that stuff next time, huh? There isn’t much of the storm left and I kinda… I should get your stuff back to your apartment.’

 

Noctis’ hand slides down to Prompto’s hip and he smiles – something he hopes is comforting. Even if Prompto’s excuse doesn’t entirely make sense, he can take a hint. ‘Sure, Prom, whatever you want.’

 

And so maybe slowly, with every passing word and event Noctis is becoming less and less convinced he’s dreaming. It’s a discovery that he’s finding less starling than it should be. Maybe because there’s something disarming in Prompto’s inherent gentleness. So what if he’s crazy, Noctis is the one seeing all the magical shit.

 

Maybe they’re both crazy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys. this got so out of hand. it was meant to be a /short drabble/ what happened

Prompto strips the coat and shirt off as soon as he’s through Noctis’ front door.

 

Noctis stops, eyebrow arching. When Prompto notices he half shrugs, unwilling to meet Noctis’ eye. ‘Sorry, I was getting… really hot.’

 

‘No problem,’ Noctis says slowly, because after all, it’s not exactly a bad view. He takes off his own coat and hangs them both in the hallway, keeping his own loose top on. He leads them into the main, open plan section of his apartment, calling over his shoulder, ‘you want another drink?’

 

‘Are you having one?’

 

Noctis considers the way Prompto is still glowing, catching what little city light shines through the window, patterns of ice shifting under his skin, and says, ‘definitely.’

 

‘Then sure, okay.’

 

Two tumblers in hand, Noctis emerges from the kitchen to find Prompto pressed up against the wall length windows, eyes captivated on the snowstorm outside. His palm is pressed to the glass and on the other side the snow gravitates towards him, blooming into a gigantic, delicate ice sculpture that slowly comes to dominate the window.

 

‘Are you doing that on purpose?’

 

Prompto jumps, hand flinching away from the glass. He eyes Noctis, smiling gratefully as he takes the silently offered glass. ‘I don’t think so. It… never used to happen at home. I had more control.’

 

‘Hey, don’t look so down. It’s pretty awesome.’

 

‘Thanks, Noct.’ They knock their glasses together. Just as Prompto is about to take a sip, his eyes catch on something over Noctis’ shoulder and he gapes in horror. ‘You have one of those _things_.’

 

Noctis looks behind him and sure enough, displayed in the corner is his acoustic guitar, pick still resting in the strings. He’s pretty proud of it, if he’s honest. Rich, dark wood, clean and shiny. Sleek.

 

‘You don’t have to look so terrified,’ Noctis laughs.

 

‘But those things create _horror_.’

 

‘It’s called a guitar. And not always. Look, sit down and I’ll show you.’

 

Noctis collects the guitar, ignoring the strap and settling it on his lap once he sits on the sofa. He notices that though Prompto sits on the same chair, he leans back as far as he can, intrigue mixed with fear on his face. It’s another moment that strikes Noctis as really goddamn weird, because who doesn’t know what a guitar is? He’ll forgive Prompto though. The dude’s fucking pretty.

 

After a few moments of mentally flicking through his albums, he chooses a recent favourite he has learned. The notes are soft, lyrics slow, and Noctis thinks it’s the perfect contrast to the racket Prompto had faced earlier.

 

Within the first bar, Prompto’s expression transforms, captivated wonder watching the way Noctis’ fingers tug lightly on the strings. It buoys Noctis’ confidence, because he doesn’t necessarily think himself a bad singer as such, but he knows he’s not all that impressive. Taking a deep breath, eyes trained on Prompto’s bright face rather than thinking too hard over the notes, Noctis sings.

 

_I am not the only traveler_

_Who has not repaid his debt_

_I've been searching for a trail to follow again_

_Take me back to the night we met_

Prompto’s watching Noctis now, irises shining. As Noctis keeps singing, Prompto leans slowly forward, inch by inch coming closer until he’s leaning on the pillow beside Noctis.

 

_And then I can tell myself_

_What the hell I'm supposed to do_

_And then I can tell myself_

_Not to ride along with you_

 

Hesitantly, with just a finger, Prompto reaches out to brush against the edge of the guitar, feeling the music. The vibrations must catch him, because the rest of his fingertips quickly follow and his mouth rises at the corners, an almost-smile of fascination.

 

_When the night was full of terrors_

_And your eyes were filled with tears_

_When you had not touched me yet_

_Oh, take me back to the night we met_

 

Noctis plays and sings, passive, as Prompto inches ever closer, hand still resting on the wooden instrument, careful not to be a burden and ruin the sound, but helplessly attached. He slides under the neck of the instrument, curling up against Noctis’ side. Though he watches, wary of Noctis’ rejection, he sees nothing in the other’s calm expression to stop him. So he leans down, pressing his ear and his other hand against Noctis’ chest to feel the vibrations as he sings. Noctis’ eyes are trained on the angel, even if all he can see are the snow-flecked strands of hair on the top of his head.

 

_I had all and then most of you_

_Some and now none of you_

_Take me back to the night we met_

 

Prompto’s hand clenches into fist finger by finger, forehead pressed close into Noctis’ chest. Noctis finds himself singing the final words quieter as the song drops off, for some reason hoping Prompto is listening, absorbing the words, even if they’re just the lyrics some guy somewhere else has written. They’re not for them, but they still feel fragile somehow.

 

_I don't know what I'm supposed to do_

_Haunted by the ghost of you_

_Take me back to the night we met_

As the final notes ring through the empty apartment, the two boys are still, pressed almost as one and hung in the moment. Sculpture title: _The Voice and the Angel_.

 

‘I could feel it,’ Prompto whispers, finally, fingers tapping at Noctis’ chest, ‘I could feel it in here.’

 

Noctis doesn’t know what to say to that, so without thinking too much about it, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of Prompto’s head. Prompto reacts slowly, leaning away just enough to look up, hand releasing the guitar still resting in Noctis’ lap.

 

Without the music, the quiet is so complete. Even the storm outside is a distant thing, voiceless on the other side of the window.

 

Prompto’s hand slides up from Noctis’ chest to cup his cheek, a strange parallel to the beginning of the night. Noctis doesn’t want him to take it away, but for an entirely different reason this time. When Prompto leans in, hesitantly, Noctis lets the angel lead, stuck in the frozen moment.

 

But when Prompto’s lips meet his, he comes alive on the inside. Prompto is warm and soft, and even though that doesn’t quite add up with his blue lips and snow flake skin, Noctis doesn’t even think about it, not anymore, because it’s natural and right and hell, the angel can kiss. Just a press of their mouths together, a question more than an action, begging permission or maybe just fulfilling a wish.

 

Then Prompto is pulling back and Noctis’ hand releases the guitar of its own accord to catch the angel. Now his arms are in some weird sort of tangle, one just about keeping hold of the neck of the guitar, the other clutching the bare skin of Prompto’s arm because, oh yeah, forgot the guy was basically naked, and now that Noctis has realised all over again his mind it totally short circuiting. There’s a ridiculously hot, topless guy leaning over him, having just kissed him, and how does Noctis salvage this situation without embarrassing himself or coming across as down right desperate?

 

Short answer: he doesn’t.

 

Instead, he thinks fuck it, shoves his guitar down onto the carpet – and so maybe that’s its own kind of blasphemy, that’s a problem for another time – and yanks Prompto back down towards him.

 

Luckily, now he’s not terrified of rejection, the angel is just as keen. When their lips join this time it’s with more force, confidence and need coming together. Prompto makes the first move again, sliding his tongue along Noctis’ lip. Noctis shifts the angle just so, and like that they slot together, Noctis opening his mouth into a desperate kiss that has Prompto pressing closer, crawling over him.

 

Prompto settles over Noctis’ lap, hands cupping Noctis’ jaw while Noctis rests his hands on Prompto’s hips, squeezing occasionally.

 

‘So,’ Noctis gasps one time when he has to come up for air, Prompto sliding down to kiss along his jaw, ‘you don’t have a fucking clue how dates work but you know your way around a mouth?’ Prompto slides back up and starts kissing again, and Noctis tries to get the words in where he can. ‘How… the hell… does that work?’

 

When Prompto leans up his eyes are lidded, lips slightly swollen, and for once there’s actually a blush of colour to his face. Noctis really wishes he hadn’t started talking because that face was _kissing him_ and now it’s not and this is a real issue in his life right now.

 

‘Dating is something of a… human phenomenon,’ Prompto explains, fiddling with the collar of Noctis’ t-shirt, pulling it loose to reveal the line of Noctis’ collarbone, ‘we have our own rituals for courting. But this… this we can do.’

 

As if to emphasize his point Prompto dives forward and latches on to the patch of exposed skin, sucking and nipping in the right way to have Noctis moaning softly. The darker haired man has just enough presence of mind to register Prompto’s smirk against his skin, but it’s an absent thought, lost as Prompto slides his tongue up Noctis’ neck to nibble at the ear.

 

Noctis is squirming in his seat now, Prompto’s weight above him another sensation drawing the heat down to his crotch. As Prompto’s lips meet his again in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, the angel grinds his hips down and Noctis’ snap up of their own accord, chasing the friction. Prompto chuckles against Noctis’ mouth and Noctis leans back, eyes narrowed. ‘Jackass.’

 

Prompto is wearing this sort of half-grin half-smirk. ‘Guess I’m that good.’

 

‘Angels are kinda slutty, huh?’

 

‘Not all of them,’ Prompto is outright leering now, hand tracing the muscles of Noctis’ chest through his shirt, ‘I just know what I like.’

 

Something is burning inside Noctis – not just arousal, but the need to wipe that smirk off Prompto’s face – when he remembers a flashing moment from earlier in the evening. Noctis is pretty sure he knows _something_ Prompto likes, too, and those abs really have been missing out so far.

 

Noctis leans forward for a kiss but doges at the last moment, mouthing at Prompto’s jaw instead. Meanwhile, his hand slides away from Prompto’s hip and runs along his torso instead, slowly tracing the vines buried beneath the skin. It’s a little difficult, since he can’t look to make sure he’s in the right place, but he knows when he’s found the right spot because Prompto goes ridged.

 

The angel isn’t even breathing, hands clutching Noctis forearms. Smirking himself now, Noctis leans back to observe his handiwork, making sure his fingertips are tracing the exact lines of Prompto’s skin. Prompto finally releases a shaky breath, eyes closed and head dropping down onto Noctis’ shoulder.

 

‘What even are they?’ It hardly seems like the time to ask, and yeah, maybe Noctis is only half intrigued to hear the answer but it’s still a thought playing in the back of his mind.

 

‘They’re…’ Prompto tries to answer, but stops, swallowing, ‘they’re connected to my… wings.’

 

Noctis’ hand freezes in place, and Prompto chooses that moment to grind his hips down again, bringing Noctis back into the action, and Noctis can only breathe out, ‘holy shit,’ because the wings, he’d forgotten about those fucking wings.

 

‘Hey,’ he says, catching Prompto’s eye as the angel raises his head, ‘you wanna… maybe… get them out again?’

 

Prompto swallows, some of the haze dissipating from his eyes. He glances around, eyeing the various decorations and plants and furniture scattered throughout the room. ‘I’m really not sure there’s enough space.’

 

‘I think I can fix that.’

 

After a touch of nudging and gesturing and a few more kisses, Noctis gets Prompto off his lap and takes his hand. Prompto follows without comment as Noctis leads him to the bedroom.

 

It is a corner room, sparsely decorated and walled on two sides by snow filled windows. As with the rest of the apartment, the ceilings are tall – benefits of living in a penthouse. In the centre is a huge, low sitting bed, covered in a black throw and silver pillows.

 

‘Big enough?’

 

‘Oh, I’m sure your big enough, Noct. Don’t worry.’

 

Noctis moans and throws a pillow at the angel. ‘Bad joke. I wasn’t kidding though.’

 

Instead of answering, Prompto shakes himself out again, thick clouds of glitter flashing in the air. Noctis watches from a distance this time as the flecks float to the floor then dissolve before just meeting the carpet.

 

Inside, Prompto’s wings seem even larger, and though they don’t quite reach the ceiling they make a pretty good attempt. Despite earlier reassurances, Prompto is still curling in on himself, wings twitching as though wanting to be hidden once again.

 

Noctis’ eyes soften, something kinder and less lust-fueled filling them as he gravitates towards Prompto. Coaxing Prompto’s chin up with his hands, Noctis nudges their noses together because fuck it, Prompto looks like the kind of guy who needs something soft and cuddly. ‘Beautiful.’

 

Prompto answers with another kiss, wrapping his arms around Noctis’ neck as his wings enclose around the two of them. It’s closer like this, Noctis thinks, and it feels sort of like he’s floating, the two of them in their own little world. Prompto is still kissing him, tongue licking in just the right way. Noctis’ hand drifts down from Prompto’s cheek, sliding along his chest, round his hip, until finally reaching out for the wings.

 

They’re soft. Predictable, really. A bit of a disappointment, for all their majesty.

 

What isn’t a disappointment is Prompto’s reaction. He freezes up, entire body suddenly clenched around Noctis, hands gripping with enough force to leave bruises. As Noctis brushes his hand slowly down the feathers, Prompto’s entire body starts shivering, one leg sliding up Noctis’ until its wrapped around his waist. In such a position, the telltale hardness in Prompto’s white pants is pretty clear, and Noctis grinds their hips together, triggering a gasp from the angel as he throws his head back.

 

Noctis feels like it’s the perfect time for a tease, but Prompto is totally blissed out, eyes lidded and lips parted. It’s not exactly doing nothing for Noctis.

 

One arm wrapped around his waist and cupping Prompto’s ass, the other still dragging teasingly along the wings, Noctis lifts Prompto further over to the bed. When he gets there, he spins them so Prompto drops, bouncing and shocked both from the fall and the sudden lack of contact. He blinks, gazing up at Noctis, hair finally disheveled and wings spread wide on the bed. There are marks along his collar and neck that will slowly grow into bruises, strangely severe against the pale glowing skin, but still complimentary to the sharp patterns.

 

This, Noctis thinks, is a dream he can definitely get behind.

 

Prompto spreads his legs and Noctis kneels between them, hanging over the dazed angel. Prompto’s wearing the same grin he wore when they met but Noctis can read it better now. It’s joy, it’s wonder, it’s getting to see something he’d never imagined he’d find, and suddenly discovering it’s there, close enough to touch.

 

Noctis leans down and presses his lips to Prompto’s again, something soft and out of place among the heated actions that lead to this moment. It feels right, though, easy, and when Prompto reaches up to card his fingers through Noctis’ hair it feels like an action they’ve done a thousand times before. ‘Hello angel,’ Noctis breathes, and it feels weightless.

 

Every move they make is slow, mouths opening and tongues sliding together carelessly. Prompto runs his hands under Noctis’ t-shirt and Noctis pauses briefly to tug the top off and discard it across the room. There’s a second of self-consciousness, because yeah, he doesn’t exactly have a bad body, but it’s hard to compare to an actual fucking angel.

 

But Prompto is staring at him like he’s saved the world or invented the sun or something, so the moment passes quickly, and Noctis leans to run his mouth over Prompto’s chest. Prompto slides his hands back through Noctis’ hair, humming lightly when Noctis’ lips catch on his nipple. But when Noctis glances up, Prompto is watching the window.

 

Noctis stretches up on his hands and asks, ‘you okay?’

 

‘The snow’s getting lighter.’

 

Sure enough, outside blizzard is shrinking into merely a heavy snowfall, the occasional flash of streetlamp breaking through. Noctis definitely has other things on his mind right now but this seems to really trouble Prompto, because he’s frowning, eyebrows drawn down.

 

With a kiss Noctis drags Prompto’s attention back. ‘I’m sure it’ll snow again, Prom.’

 

‘But what about tonight?’

 

It’s a loaded question, even if Noctis can’t translate how. ‘Then we best make the most of it while it lasts.’

 

Prompto is looking at him with wide eyes, maybe sort of terrified, and Noctis thinks fuck it, he might as well jump from this particular cliff. He’s either dreaming, in which case what does it matter (although he’s sort of really beginning to hope he’s wrong on this front), or he takes the plunge, and hopefully maybe gets to keep his angel around for a bit longer.

 

‘Look,’ Noctis begins, and swallows because, fuck, the moment feels heavier than he thought it would, ‘we can do whatever you want. I just want you to feel good. But you should know, I’m not an asshole. I’m not gonna love you and leave you. I’m not gonna think of you as some sort of conquest, or another notch under my belt or whatever. I… I really like you, Prompto, and I know I’ve known you for all of one night – half of which I thought you were either a dream or fucking delusional, I’ll admit – but… I’d really like to spend more time with you.’

 

Prompto’s expression has smoothed out, and the corner of his mouth twitches. ‘Even if I’m an angel?’

 

‘Especially if you’re an angel. You’re my guardian angel, remember?’

 

‘I haven’t even applied for the job yet.’

 

‘Doesn’t matter. I’m giving it to you, right now.’

 

Luckily, this breaks the moment, and Prompto laughs, dragging Noctis back down into a messy, joyful kiss. ‘Okay, Noct. I’ll be yours.’

 

Noctis gets lost in it. The feeling, the eyes, the shining skin and flecks of crystal in the eyelashes. He learns quickly, loving the way Prompto’s breath shakes when he touches _right_ there, and Prompto does too, reading the hitch in Noctis’ moans every time he sucks on that spot behind his ear. When he pulls Prompto close, hips, chests, mouths meeting, he whispers, ‘what do you want?’

 

Prompto’s features are all shadowed self-consciousness, eyes flickering but lips still parted with arousal, ‘You. All of you, if you’ll have me.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Noctis nods, swallowing, because Prompto’s attention is a heavy thing like this, weighted with so much meaning that it feels like there’s a whole history swirling around them even if they’ve just met. ‘Yeah, okay.’

 

So maybe there’s moments, the occasional twinging shift on the bed, or the awkward fumbling with lube and condoms – ‘condoms? Really? What a _human_ notion’ – but it’s still so much easier than it’s ever been before. Yeah, okay, Noctis maybe puts it down to the fact that Prompto is _magic_ and moves on, but even he seems to be overlooking the fact that the angel is dazed by that, hooked, desperate not to let go even as the snow starts to lessen outside the window and slowly bit by bit his light dims.

 

But when Noctis presses inside all those worries evaporate into dust, because what does the world outside matter when it feels like this, when they feel _connected_ , together, one consciousness moving like this. Even in the dark, Noctis’ eyes are hooked on the glassy shadow of Prompto arching against him, hands clutching at Noctis’ arms. When they spin and Prompto finds himself on top, wings spreading in ecstasy, Noctis runs his hands mindlessly along the feathers and Prompto is crying out, overwhelmed with sensation. Noctis is lost in it, drowning in it, and he doesn’t care if it’s a dream or if he’s crazy or what, because it’s beautiful and perfect and downright fucking angelic.

 

*-*

 

Afterward, when they’ve slid under the sheets and Prompto is resting on Noctis’ chest, wings hidden – ‘Nooooct, stop touching them. They’re really fucking sensitive, okay’ – Noctis runs his hands through Prompto’s hair and watches the gentle flakes now falling outside the window. He’s lost track of time, and it feels like morning should be coming soon, but he doesn’t want to close his eyes yet. It feels too close to an ending.

 

‘Snows letting up,’ Noctis murmurs, and feels Prompto frown over his heart.

 

‘I can only hold it for so long.’

 

If Noctis wasn’t so sated, in such a post-sex haze, maybe he’d have caught that remark, thought more on it and considered its wider implications. Instead, as it is, he just tugs Prompto closer and presses a kiss to his forehead.

 

Noctis decides he likes it, the weight of Prompto in his arms, the way they slot together so exactly, Prompto curled around him, warm skin against skin. He decides he wants more of it, makes promises to himself to say something in the morning. Maybe suggest breakfast, or brunch, or dinner, or all of the above, day after day for the foreseeable future. He’s maybe jumping a bit ahead, but he doesn’t care because he’s just had the best sex of his life and is falling asleep with a beautiful guy in his arms, and so what if the guy’s crazy, isn’t everyone a little bit crazy?

 

So he’s smiling when he catches one last glance of Prompto’s darkened silhouette, the curl of his hair, the dark flicker of his eyelashes, and he whispers so as not to break the moment when he says, ‘Goodnight, angel.’

 

Prompto touches his lips to Noctis’ skin once more. ‘Goodnight, Noctis.’

 

And Noctis falls asleep.

 

*-*

 

When Noctis wakes in the morning the bed is wet. Like, soaking wet. And freezing. It hits Noctis slowly then all at once, and he’s jumping from the sheets.

 

It’s an effective way to get him up, that’s for sure.

 

His head aches a little and his eyes are heavy and he definitely hasn’t had enough sleep. He rubs his face, frowning down at his sheets, and there’s something glistening against the grey.

 

Leaning over and reaching out with a finger, Noctis nudges one of the small white lumps catching the morning sun. It’s cold and dissolves under his warm touch, crumbling like… snow.

 

It hits him all at once: the blizzard, the ice skating, the bar, the fucking angel. And yes, okay, the mind blowing sex. But it had been a dream. A really fucking vivid dream, admittedly, but it was all definitely in his head.

 

Yet despite the fact that he’s awake, the weirdness continues.

 

He lashes out at the bed, wiping all the shards of ice from the covers, but it only serves to make his arm cold and wet. They are definitely real.

 

Gulping down his confusion, Noctis scrambles around the room for his jeans, pulling on a pair of sweatpants absently as he does. He finds his phone in his pocket and it takes him a couple of attempts to unlock the touch screen because his fingers are shaking like hell. There’s a mantra in his head, promising that it’s just a leak in the ceiling or Gladio thought it’d be a funny prank whilst he was drunk or _something_.

 

It’s hard to keep telling himself that when the angel from his dream is staring up from his phone screen.

 

But okay. So Prompto is real. No big deal. They were probably drunk, fucking around and imagining all the crazy shit with the ice. Noctis had a really great one night stand and the guy left already, probably embarrassed about acting so weird. At least Noctis got _laid_ – and with a fucking catch man, seriously, Noctis isn’t one to brag but this time? He might have to (leaving out all the crazy, of course).

 

He’s almost managed to convince himself when he steps out of his bedroom and stops short, because the window is broken. Or, well, not broken as such. Just iced over. With an intricate flower sculpture, stretching from the centre and climbing out to every side.

 

Eyes still watching the window, scared that if he looks away it’ll disappear, Noctis speed dials Ignis and brings his phone to his ear.

 

‘Noct! You’re up early – it’s not even twelve.’

 

‘Can you come over?’

 

‘Of course. Is everything okay?’

 

‘Peachy.’ And Noctis hangs up.

 

When Ignis arrives and lets himself in, Noctis is still stood in the middle of the room, staring. He may have short-circuited.

 

‘Noct?’ Ignis’ voice is shaky, concerned, as it echoes through the entrance hall. ‘Is everything okay…’ Ignis fades off, steps coming to a halt.

 

Noctis raises his finger and points at the window without looking over at his friend. ‘You can see that, right?’

 

‘Yes. Yes I can.’

 

It takes a shaky breath and a good deal of nodding, but at least Noctis gains some sort of confidence in the knowledge that he’s not entirely insane. He gets the picture of Prompto and himself up on his phone and holds it out to Ignis. ‘And in this picture… I’m not stood on my own like some sort of jackass, am I?’

 

Ignis is arching an eyebrow, because Noctis’ voice is all over the place, which is weird for a guy usually so monotone, especially this early in the morning. Still, he steps forward and takes the phone, cocking his head to the side of the image.

 

‘Of course not. Although I’m sorry to say I don’t recognise your friend there. Shame, really. By the looks of your neck it seems the two of you had a good time last night. What happened to having a quiet one in?’

 

‘That’s fine.’ Noctis stopped listening after Ignis’ initial reassurance. His attention is back on the window. Dodging the sofa, where the guitar is still discarded on the floor, he heads over and presses his hand to the point on the window where Prompto had stood the night before.

 

He’s actually surprised when it’s cold, even though it’s fucking iced over on the other side, of course the glass is going to be _cold_.

 

‘It reminds me of what I saw on the news this morning,’ Ignis is saying behind him, ‘An artist has apparently gone around in the night creating ice sculptures all over Kings Park. Strange that they’d go to so much effort to climb this building when no one can see it from the ground. I wonder how they – ’

 

Ignis’ words finally catch up to Noctis and he spins around, yelling perhaps a little too aggressively, ‘what?’

 

After a brief pause of surprise, Ignis opens his mouth to explain further, but Noctis is already stalking away. He has to go.

 

*-*

 

Noctis _hates_ the fucking snow.

 

He’d forgotten it in his hazy dream of snow free bubbles and magically-induced warmth. But Prompto’s gone now and so, apparently, are his magic powers. Noctis really wishes he’d considered this before leaving the apartment without his gloves or scarf.

 

The depressing effort of trudging through two feet of snow doesn’t seemed to have deterred anyone else, though, because the park is packed. When Noctis arrives he has to push his way through the crowds waiting at the gates.

 

Their trails had mostly been gone on the walk, buried beneath layers of snow that had settled late into the night. Inside the park, though, it’s like everything’s been preserved. The crystal vines are still looping around the swing set, much larger than Noctis remembers and he can’t figure out if they’ve grown during the night or if he was so preoccupied with Prompto the angel that he’d barely noticed anything else happening in the real world.

 

And for fuck sake, is he seriously subconsciously accepting that Prompto was a legit angel? Yeah, he sort of is, because _look at the evidence_.

 

The merry-go-round looks like a tree made of glass, the pond is frozen solid, ice so thick that some idiot kids are trying – and failing – to mine whole chunks out of the edge (much to the chagrin of the people trying to skate). The tracks they’d made around the park are still there, looping and intertwining, kids laughing as they mess around, weaving between them.

 

Noctis takes a deep breath, this weird sense of hope and dread filling his lungs, and calls out, ‘Prompto!’ It’s a quiet thing, and only those closest to him glance over, so he tries again, louder. ‘Prompto!’

 

He spends the next half an hour wandering the park, calling out, glancing at every face hoping to catch the glint of that blonde hair, those familiar icy eyes. Once a young mother approaches him, sympathy on her face, little girl clutching her hand, and asks, ‘are you okay there?’

 

‘Yeah,’ Noctis tries to look reassuring, but his smile is a cracked and shaky thing, ‘just looking for my friend. He’s around here somewhere.’

 

Though the mother doesn’t look so sure, she nods anyway and nudges her daughter on. As the pair walks away the little girl twists around, eyes hooked on Noctis. When his eyes meet hers she grins, giggling. Noctis manages a tight lift at the corner of his mouth back.

 

‘He wants it to snow, too,’ she laughs, and then pulls out of her mother’s hand and runs off to the swing.

 

The mother hasn’t apparently noticed that the little girl was talking to him and takes off at a jog to catch the child. Noctis is frozen in place.

 

_He wants it to snow, too._

 

Of course Prompto wouldn’t just leave. Not after last night. Not after everything they talked about. Maybe Noctis had been cursing himself for giving the whole ‘not a one night stand kind of guy’ speech when Prompto was gonna be the one to bail. It’s not so embarrassing anymore, because maybe Prompto didn’t _want_ to leave.

 

Maybe he had no choice.

 

*-*

 

Because the weather apparently fucking hates Noctis, the cold front holds off for the next few days.

 

Noctis watches the weather avidly, hoping and praying to whatever gods there are – because there must be some, for there to be angels, right? – but no snow is forthcoming. In fact, the snow that is around starts melting a touch because the world is actually getting _warmer_. Which is fan-fucking-tastic because now Noctis doesn’t even get the benefit of his magical snow angel boyfriend but he still has to put up with the gross pain of gritty road slush on the paths.

 

He’s out for coffee with Ignis and Gladio and they’re sat at a window seat. He’s curled up in a leather chair, not really listening to what his friends are talking about. Probably work. It’s always work.

 

Admittedly, they probably have reason to worry. Noctis’ mind has been pretty absent this past week or so, and he’s not sleeping too well, plus he feels cold _all the time_. It’s hard to get warm when you know what it feels like to have heat literally radiating through your insides. All in all, it’s lead to a very unproductive couple of days.

 

As per usual, Noctis can’t bring himself to care too much.

 

So he sits, occasionally sipping at his hot chocolate, sort of giving up on it once all the cream and marshmellows are gone. The street is so much more interesting, the light scattering of leaves across old snow, icy paths, the occasional snowflake trickling down from the sky. They’re good flakes, too. Big and thick, intricately patterned where they stick to the cold window, reminding Noctis’ of his window art before it melted, before they melt too, that is.

 

So, yeah, good snowflakes. Prompto would like them.

 

In fact, Prompto’s probably out there right now, dancing around like the half-naked joyful idiot that he is, catching drops on that talented tongue…

 

Prompto’s probably out there right now…

 

In the snow…

 

It’s snowing.

 

Noctis is out of his seat before he can even spare the time for a goodbye, yanking on his coat and scarf as he bursts from the café, bell ringing with finality behind him.

 

*-*

 

With the warm weather Prompto’s sculptures had all melted. As such, Kings Park goes from being a prime tourist location back to being a sad, broken field with alarming speed.

 

At least it’s empty now, just one man walking his dog across the grass.

 

Noctis is maybe sort of running, urging the more self-conscious side of his brain not to worry itself with what everyone else is thinking as he blazes past. It must give up on him, burrowing into blissful ignorance, because the feelings leave him completely as he stumbles around the park yelling Prompto’s name.

 

The snow is steady, settling on his shoulders and in his hair. As time goes by he starts shivering, because yeah, it’s fucking cold again. But it’ll be okay, because Prompto will be here soon to warm him up.

 

Except the minutes keep ticking by, and Prompto’s nowhere to be found.

 

But then, Noctis didn’t find Prompto in the park, did he?

 

He traipses the trip between his apartment and the park three times, looping around different streets, searching every place he thinks the angel might be pulled towards. The whole time the snow keeps up its steady, light flutter.

 

Until, slowly, it stops.

 

It’s hard to notice, and Noctis might have been still calling for a while before realising the heavy, overcast sky wasn’t giving him anything anymore.

 

So maybe he’d got excited. Like, really excited. Because this was supposed to be it. Their great romantic reunion. But Prompto didn’t show.

 

Disheartened – no, Noctis might as well admit it to himself at least – absolutely fucking _crushed_ , he collapses onto the swing and slouches, toes swaying him back and forth, tracing rough patterns into the dusting of settled snow on the ground. He’s there for a while, he knows, when he notices a small shadow hovering by his side.

 

The girl is short, vaguely familiar, but really very young. Noctis isn’t sure he can deal with anymore lost people, but how’s he supposed to run away from a six-year-old? Hesitantly, she steps a touch closer and pokes Noctis’ leg. He can’t help but eye the girl, totally confused.

 

‘He says to tell you that he’s sorry. And that he really is trying. Really really hard.’

 

And Noctis’ heart starts beating all over again. ‘Who? When? How?’

 

The little girl giggles and runs off again. Noctis jerks up and follows her around the other side of the climbing frame.

 

But of course, because Noctis’ life is now a fucking fairytale apparently, she’s disappeared.

 

*-*

 

If Prompto’s gonna put in the effort, then Noctis figures he can only do the same.

 

So, having invested in thicker gloves and actually bothering to carry his scarf around on the regular – yeah, he becomes one of _those_ , with his scarf hanging on the outside of his coat most of the time – every time it snows he dutifully goes looking for Prompto.

 

The first few times he holds out hope.

 

The worst ones are where the snow turns to this disgusting sleet and Noctis curls into his hood wishing Prompto could’ve been the freaking Caribbean Beach Angel or something. But still, he stays, for as long as he can.

 

But it’s hard to keep showing… shower after shower with no results. He’s honestly forgetting what made Prompto so unreal, what made him so much better than anything else (beyond the creepy magic, which Noctis is also slowly starting to disbelieve again), and it’s only the memory of a memory keeping him around.

 

Until it doesn’t anymore.

 

*-*

 

Noctis is in a board meeting, sat near the back, watching his dad and supposedly making notes for his internship. Instead, he’s torn between wanting to sleep and wanting to watch the snow through the window.

 

It’s the heaviest fall it’s been for a while, and there’s still a distant instinct tugging deep inside to get him out there. But he’s bailed from his responsibilities so many times for that exact reason, and though Regis enables him an extent of autonomy, believing in his decisions, there will be repercussions soon.

 

So he stays, doodling rather than making notes, but he’s there and he’s awake. Just.

 

*-*

 

The snow only gets heavier.

 

By the end of the day it’s growing into a full on blizzard, the second freak storm of the season. Weather warnings are flashing on the tv screens in the high-rise forum and the radio is blaring at people to stay off the roads if they want to not die. Noctis is a pretty devil may care kind of guy and also its been a shit day so if the ice wants to take him then he’s not gonna fucking complain.

 

So, like every other moron in central Insomnia, he drives home anyway.

 

With the snow landing fast and thick traffic builds quickly, until Noctis’ low driving sports car is crawling through the streets. The night falls quicker, light drowned by dark white, until Noctis can barely see for all the good his headlights are doing.

 

It takes him an hour to get home and he’s muttering to himself as he swings the car around to wait for the underground garage door to open. The mechanism must be freezing over because it’s slow going.

 

Finally parked, Noctis makes his way up the stairs into the lobby. Even inside as he is, there’s that inherent chill in his bones back, and his brain just wants to sleep so he can get away from it. The banging and grunting from the lobby security guard isn’t helping, and because he’s in such a shitty mood he has half a mind to yell at the guy to shut up at least while he waits for the elevator, because what the hell is he doing… kicking… the frozen… door.

 

Noctis stalks over and just about restrains himself from shoving the security guy aside. Instead, the man throws a scowl at him and steps back. ‘Good luck, kid, the whole door’s frozen shut.’

 

There must be something wrong with this bitter bald man because he doesn’t even seem to care how _beautiful_ the ice is, the leaves and blossoms pressing themselves hard as though trying to work their way through every crack to get inside. Excitement rendering him momentarily stupid Noctis shoves at the door and genuinely expects it to open, so it comes as a touch of a shock when he rebounds off the glass.

 

The security guard cocks his eyebrow as if to say _are you dumb?_

 

Noctis shakes himself and asks, ‘the garage door is unlocked, right?’

 

‘Course not. What kinda place do ya think we’re running here?’

 

‘Well, could you just…’

 

Noctis doesn’t bother to finish his sentence, is already crashing back down the stairs to the garage where a – now unlocked, thank you now-less-bitter-bald-man – spare exit leads to the side of the building.

 

Outside the snow is heavy as ever, a heavy as _that night_ , if not heavier. Noctis stumbles through it around to the front of the building, mentally cursing himself because of all times to leave his scarf and gloves in the car, he does it now. Even his coat is swinging open, haphazardly worn. The beauty of having a car.

 

An entire forest climbs out of the front of the building, and it brings Noctis up short because it’s all sharp twigs and thorns and if ice could look angry it would look like this. Hesitantly, he pushes his way through and at the centre, where the door would be, is Prompto.

 

He’s sat on the floor, head resting on his knees and arms clutched tight around himself. After a brief moment of _Thank God_ , Noctis thinks _oh shit_ , because the storm has been building and raging for hours and there’s no wonder Prompto’s pissed if he’s been waiting around the whole time.

 

‘Prom?’

 

The angel’s head snaps up and Noctis sees the hints of relief and joy growing on his face. Noctis is just beginning to smile back when Prompto’s grin fails and he’s glaring, throwing himself off the floor and stalking over.

 

Noctis hasn’t quite caught up yet when Prompto shoves him. ‘Wha –’ and Prompto shoves him again, ‘Prom man, come on,’ and again, ‘Prompto would you calm the fuck down – ’

 

‘ _Why weren’t you here?_ ’

 

Prompto isn’t shoving anymore, but what’s worse is that he’s not touching Noctis at all, stumbling back instead and crystal flecked eyes filling with tears. ‘Prompto,’ Noctis breathes, because a single tear slips free and crystalizes on the skin, making Prompto into even more of a sculpture than he already is, frozen in time.

 

‘I was… I meant to be…’

 

Prompto closes his eyes, face turning away. Noctis inches forward, reaching a tentative hand out. At least the angel doesn’t pull away when Noctis wraps a hand around his elbow, tugging the two of them closer together.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Noctis murmurs, using his thumb to wipe away the cold flecks of icy tears, ‘I meant to be here.’

 

‘But you weren’t.’

 

‘I… I’ve waited so many times, but you… I thought you weren’t coming back.’

 

This makes Prompto pull away, but only a touch, just enough to make Noctis drop his hand. ‘I was trying my best. But I was in so much trouble and they… do you have any idea how hard it is to make a storm strong enough to hide in?’

 

‘Make a storm? You did this?’

 

‘Well, obviously. The fuck you think I did? Hang around in the clouds looking pretty?’

 

‘Uh… I guess so.’ Noctis hasn’t really put much thought into it, but he’s doubtful admitting such will improve the situation.

 

Prompto shoots Noctis a baleful look then shakes his head, beginning to stalk off into the snow. ‘Forget it. You’re an idiot, Noctis Lucis Caelum.’

 

Noctis scrambles to drag him back, gripping him by the arm. He’s far from forgotten Prompto’s strength, and the angel could definitely pull free if he wanted to, so Noctis takes it as a chance when Prompto lets the darker boy pull him back. ‘I got your messages. I knew you were trying.’

 

‘Then why didn’t you _stay_?’

 

‘ _I don’t know!_ Maybe because I stopped hearing from your creepy little friends after the first week and I could’ve spent the rest of my life waiting around for you to come back.’

 

‘Don’t call cherubs creepy. They _will_ hunt you down.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Never mind. The point is you were supposed to trust me.’

 

‘After one night!?’

 

‘After everything we did!’ Prompto glances around, realising they’re yelling now. The street is empty though, the storm is in full force – only getting more aggressive, really, with heavy winds that throw ice over Noctis hard enough to sting, which makes sense since Prompto is angry as hell and apparently it’s all his doing, anyway. Still, Prompto lowers his voice, inching closer, and there are an entire variety of warmths coursing through Noctis at the proximity. ‘What does that night, everything we did… what does it mean to you? Really?’

 

Prompto’s eyes are wide, sort of begging, but his voice is deadly serious and perhaps even a little scared. Noctis can’t hold the gaze, shifting on the spot and blush growing in his cheeks. ‘I had… a really good time.’

 

And Prompto just… shatters. ‘A really good time.’ There’s a pause where Prompto wets his lip, shaking his head, and then he’s starting to pull away again.

 

‘What do you want from me?’ Noctis is still grabbing for his angel but Prompto is actively pushing him away.

 

‘You have no idea. _No idea_.’

 

‘Don’t you think you’re taking this a little seriously – ’

 

‘You said you wanted me. You said I was _yours_!’

 

‘I did! I do – but I mean, c’mon, Prom… that’s a bit much a bit fast, don’t you think? I thought you knew what was going on.’

 

‘Well isn’t that just funny because I thought you knew what was going on to. I can’t believe Ravus was fucking right about you…’ That last is muttered to himself, and Prompto is almost managing to get away now, Noctis stumbling to keep up.

 

‘Here’s an idea! You could tell me what I’m apparently fucking missing to make you this upset. So I’m a few hours late…’

 

‘You think _that’s_ why I’m pissed?’

 

Prompto stops and Noctis finally manages to catch up, and he shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck. ‘Well… yeah. Isn’t it?’

 

‘Four weeks,’ Prompto hisses, finger poking hard enough to hurt at Noctis’ chest, ‘I’m stuck with you, and you couldn’t even wait four fucking weeks for me.’

 

Still, Noctis doesn’t really know what to say, because, well, four weeks is plenty of time for your one night stand to get back to you, right? He laughs meekly. ‘I missed you, though?’

 

The anger just sort of… drains, and Prompto’s expression is left so hopeless. ‘You don’t have a clue, do you?’

 

‘Tell me what I did wrong, Prompto, _please_.’ Noctis crowds closer, pulling Prompto’s hands up to clutch them in his own.

 

Prompto stares at Noctis’ chest rather than meeting his eyes, pained, whispering to himself. ‘I’m a fucking idiot… I should’ve… listened. I should’ve listened.’

 

‘Prompto, angel, please just talk to me. If you wanna leave after, that’s fine. But please give me a chance to understand this.’

 

Prompto tries, but the whisper is so low that it gets carried away in the wind. When Noctis nudges him to try again, another tear slips free. ‘We’re… bonded.’

 

And yeah, okay, clearly by Prompto’s reaction this is a big fucking deal but… from Noctis’ perspective? He still hasn’t got a clue what the fuck that means. Prompto is behaving as though that explains everything, though, and when he pulls free Noctis is still processing, and he doesn’t even have to shove to slip free.

 

Prompto is stumbling back, wiping at his eyes frantically. ‘It’s okay, though. You don’t have to worry. It doesn’t mean anything, not for you. You can still go off and find someone prettier and more normal, it doesn’t matter. I can be on my own. I’ll be fine on my own.’ He’s nodding, trying to convince himself, but the effort is sort of ruined because he starts outright sobbing.

 

This gets through to Noctis because he breaks out of his revere to envelope Prompto in a hug, instinct to comfort overriding confusion. ‘Prom, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to explain a little more. I’m kinda dumb, remember?’

 

Hiding in Noctis’ chest must make it easier for the angel because he starts talking, words muffled in the fabric of the coat. ‘Some angels… they… they’re… Iedolas calls us special. I don’t know, anyway, we… we’re not like others. Once we’ve chosen someone… we… bond… for life… through, uh…’

 

Noctis eyes slip shut because _shit_. ‘Sex. You mean you bond to each other through sex.’

 

Prompto nods, still unwilling to look up.

 

‘But… I don’t understand… you were so… _good_ at it.’

 

This actually manages to bring a burst of a chuckle from Prompto, sharp against the tears. ‘Instinct, I guess.’

 

‘Fuck angels, man.’ Noctis realizes he should be taking this more seriously but he feels strangely disassociated from the whole thing. He’s sure he’ll wake up tomorrow, or maybe a few mornings from now, and it’ll hit him that he’s a whole new level of committed to someone he barely knows. But right now, he’s cool. He’s totally got this.

 

‘Yeah,’ Prompto chuckles, ‘fuck angels.’

 

‘So, I’ve uh… got a lot of questions, obviously.’

 

Prompto is gazing at him, but with every inch Noctis moves closer, hope grows.

 

‘But, well, it’s fucking cold out here. Which is fine for you, but poor old me is about to freeze to death and we won’t even have time to spend eternity committed to one another.’ Prompto is grinning now, thank fuck, even if weariness swims beneath the surface. ‘So, maybe we could shift this party inside and we can talk more about fucking angels.’

 

Prompto’s laugh is bells, and it lights up Noctis’ world.

 

*-*

 

So yeah, everything’s pretty serious. And there’s so much more to the argument they need to have. But it’s been a long four weeks involving a lot of unsatisfying dreams for Noctis, so when he gets inside and can stop thinking about the freezing weather, he’s back to paying attention to the half-naked Adonis who’s back to looking at him as though he’s built the sun.

 

He’s got the whole discussion figured out in his head, and it doesn’t even freak him out, what he’s got to say. But he figures a reminder of some of the more active benefits can’t hurt, and Prompto doesn’t exactly seem averse to the idea.

 

So they fuck.

 

It’s great.

 

Afterward, they’re lying in bed. Noctis has his arm slung across the bed and Prompto’s head is pillowed on it. Body still tingling from the sensation of having Prompto surrounding him, Noctis has a very one-track mind at the moment.

 

‘So… you can only appear when it’s snowy as fuck?’

 

‘Not quite. It’s sort of complicated. I’m not technically allowed on Eos. Iedolas absolutely flipped his shit when he found out. I just need the storm to stop them noticing I’m missing for a while.’

 

‘So why haven’t you just buried Insomina in an eternal winter so we could date?’

 

Prompto shoots Noctis a withering look, because yeah, it’s maybe not the time for joking. Noctis isn’t entirely sure he wants to be joking. ‘It takes a lot of effort, creating something this strong. The last one left me weak for days.’

 

Noctis remembers it, the warming weather, the depressing slush. ‘So we’re only gonna get to chill once in a blue moon?’

 

‘I’m working on it. No one is particularly happy that I’m missing, but, well… it’s pretty damaging, to keep an angel from their bonded for too long.’

 

Noctis hums in thought at this, fingers fiddling with the strands of Prompto’s hair. Then he freezes. ‘You were trying to leave earlier. You were going to leave me – your bonded?’ Noctis’ insides turn queasy at the thought.

 

Prompto presses his mouth to the inside crook of Noctis elbow, whispering his reply. ‘I didn’t want to force you into something when you didn’t know what you were getting into. I remember you on that night; the whole thing was because you felt responsible. Like you had to look after me. I’m more mature now, more entirely myself… I wouldn’t make you do that, especially not for your whole life.’

 

Noctis whacks Prompto over the head, earning a yelp.

 

‘I’m not having any of that self-sacrificial bullshit, Prom. Like I’d push you away. Have you ever met yourself?’

 

Prompto’s smile is a weak thing, so Noctis makes it grow by leaning over and pulling the angel into a deep kiss. Though Prompto resists at first, he eventually gives in, getting lost in the feel and sensation of warmth, so that when Noctis lets up they’re both panting.

 

‘You’re taking this surprisingly well. Luna warned me that you’d probably freak out.’

 

Noctis shrugs, shifting himself where he leans over Prompto. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m gonna freak out. _A lot_. But I’ll get there, you just gotta make sure you’re around to show me what I’ve won.’

 

‘Won?’

 

‘You have no idea what a prize you are.’

 

Prompto blushes, eyes cast down, snow fluttering on his eyelashes. Noctis stares, thinking yeah, so maybe he’s crazy, maybe they’re both crazy, but he’s been lost for a month, been cold and alone for a month, no matter who’s around. Even if he doesn’t have a comprehensive list of all the reasons why Prompto is perfect, he has enough, and he’s willing to bet he can discover more. So he ghosts his mouth over the slight colour on those cheeks, nudging their noses together, bringing Prompto’s eyes to his.

 

‘We’re gonna figure it out, Prompto. Yeah, maybe it’s a little daunting. But I’ll get there.’ He glances down, eyes sliding over the crystal patterns and smooth skin, rising up to the mouth that is most at home in a grin and lilac eyes that glow. ‘I’m not exactly cursing my luck here.’

 

Prompto pushes him back and Noctis goes limply so they have traded positions, the angel hovering over him with a wiry twist encroaching back on his expression. ‘You don’t have to pretend if you… if you’re searching for a way out. I’m not as fragile as you think, and as pissed as I was earlier I know… I know this is my fault. Even if it was a gigantic fuck up of a misunderstanding.’

 

With his hand sliding over Prompto’c collarbone, Noctis pauses and really considers the place he’s let himself fall into. Prompto deserves at least that – they both do. ‘I think I’m going to need some time to process. I need to think it over, then I’ll get back to you. Because you’re fucking right – it’s not gonna be easy. But Prompto? You’re not getting rid of me now. Get used to that fact.’

 

The relief is obvious. ‘I think I can do that.’

 

‘Excellent.’ Noctis settles down, clutching his angel close. ‘But you gotta promise to keep me warm.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh it was getting so long that i kinda had to rush the tying up of loose strings at the end there. 
> 
> Sorry if the ending is a bit ~much~ but i accidentally thought of plot somewhere during writing this and now there is So Much Story going on behind the scenes but like i said...
> 
> it was supposed. to be. drabble.


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